


Hear Me Howling

by thepartyresponsible



Series: Give Me Mercy [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Mob, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, M/M, Scars, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepartyresponsible/pseuds/thepartyresponsible
Summary: They don’t usually work together, Gotham and New York. There are reasons for that. Maria Stark and Thomas Wayne brokered a reasonable approximation of peace a decade or so back, but Martha butchered her way through the East Coast when Thomas was murdered, and that armistice, shaky as it was, never really recovered.So it’s funny that Jason’s here. And it’s funny that Barnes is here.And it would be funnier, probably, if it weren’t so damn obvious that the reason Bruce Wayne sent Jason and Tony Stark sent Barnes is that they are, the both of them, the most expendable of their respective inner circles.





	Hear Me Howling

**Author's Note:**

> This a repost of a short ficlet I posted [on tumblr](https://thepartyresponsible.tumblr.com/post/178964217454/fourth-halloween-prompt-im-still-mixing-prompts) back in October. Now that there's a sequel, I thought I'd bring this one over, too, so I could keep the series together.
> 
> Fair warning: this whole verse is considerably darker than what I normally write.

                They don’t usually work together, Gotham and New York. There are reasons for that. Maria Stark and Thomas Wayne brokered a reasonable approximation of peace a decade or so back, but Martha butchered her way through the East Coast when Thomas was murdered, and that armistice, shaky as it was, never really recovered.

                So it’s funny that Jason’s here. And it’s funny that Barnes is here.

                And it would be funnier, probably, if it weren’t so damn obvious that the reason Bruce Wayne sent Jason and Tony Stark sent Barnes is that they are, the both of them, the most expendable of their respective inner circles.

                “Here’s to being the least favorite,” Jason says, tipping his tumbler back. “At least we get the interesting jobs.”

                “Stop talking,” Barnes says without looking up from the rifle he’s already taken apart at least five times.

                “Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason says, pouring himself another round. “Didn’t know any of you Stark types knew how to shut your fucking mouths.”

                Barnes sets the rifle on the table and looks up at him. He’s got gray eyes, cold and always angry, and there are scars lining his jaw and cheekbones from where Hydra once sent him home with a mask sewn to his face.

                “Does it hurt to talk?” Jason asks, grinning at him, wolfish and mean, which is about as close as he gets to playful these days. “They really fuck you up that bad?”

                Barnes stares at him. His eyes aren’t even narrowed, just attentive and focused. Jason gets sick of it, lets his chair fall forward, legs clattering against the ground. He drops his tumbler on the table between them and reaches over to take that rifle away before Barnes takes the damn thing apart for the fifty-sixth time.

                Barnes is on him in a second, hand curling hard around Jason’s wrist, slamming his arm against the table and tugging Jason’s sleeve up, showing off the words cut into his skin, running all the way from wrist to shoulder, down his chest, up his back.

                “Does _this_ hurt?” Barnes asks, thumbnail scraping against the raised letters that were carved into Jason with a pocket knife that went dull halfway through. “He really fuck you up that bad?”

                Jason glances down at his arm. He told Grayson that he almost never looks at the scars anymore, but he looks every morning and every night and every time he starts to forget who he is.

                He’s a joke. He’s just a Goddamn joke that stayed on stage after the punchline.

                Wrist to shoulder, chest, ribs, back. Two letters, over and over: _ha ha ha ha ha_.

                “You’re gonna wanna take your hands off me,” Jason says, biting back the laughter that wants to bubble up. Just like he was taught, back when he was fifteen. That sick little tell he can never shake, no matter how old he gets. He always starts to laugh whenever he gets hurt.

                “We’re stuck here,” Barnes tells him, “for twelve hours. Job’s over. Whole damn city to explore, and you keep following me around.”

                “You’re gonna wanna take your hands off me,” Jason repeats, starting to flex the arm Bucky’s holding against the table, “before I get shitty about it.”

                “I don’t think you’re gonna get shitty about it,” Barnes says. The neon light, filtered through the window, makes the scars on his face glow blue, then green, then red. “I think you want my hands on you.”

                Jason swallows. He hadn’t thought about the practicalities of it. The truth is he’s never desperate for attention unless he’s being ignored. He doesn’t give a damn what people think about him, but he can’t stand the idea that they aren’t thinking about him at all.

                He’s spent five days with the Winter Soldier, tracking down a very well-armed idiot who stole from both families. For five days, he’s watched this asshole walk around, an unholy combination of apathetic and merciless, and he doesn’t know how Barnes can do the work they do without any piece of it getting under his skin. He doesn’t know how Barnes can look at all that blood and not let it make him a little bit wild.

                The thing is, this whole trip, all five Goddamn days, he’s been thinking about how the two of them are in the wrong families. Barnes works like a Wayne, and Jason parties like a Stark, and maybe that’s why they don’t belong. Maybe that’s why no one wants them.

                Maybe that’s why they’re here, together.

                “Fuck off,” Jason says. He hooks his free hand around the chair next to him and throws it right at Barnes’ face.

                Barnes sidesteps it, moves back, leaves the gun on the table between them. “Fine,” he says. “I misread things.”

                He didn’t. They both know it.

                There’s no Goddamn reason for Jason to deny himself something he wants. As soon as he gets back to Gotham, Bruce is going to hand him a heaping pile of shit that he hates.

                Jason takes a breath, skips the tumbler on the table and swipes the bottle instead. Seconds later, when he’s swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and it’s settling, warm and steadying, in the pit of his stomach, he opens his eyes and gives Barnes a long, assessing look.

                “You really got that Hydra brand on your shoulder?” he asks, because he’s never met a boundary he didn’t push, never found a wall he didn’t knock down.

                Barnes stares at him, and there’s so much intensity in his eyes that Jason figures they’re finally going to fight it out. And he doesn’t care, because fighting is as much of a release as fucking, and it’s less likely to cause problems.

                And then Bucky’s eyes drop, work down Jason’s body, and his teeth bite thoughtfully into his lip, and Jason doesn’t care how many problems it causes, he needs to get his mouth on Barnes _immediately_.

                “He really carve those marks all over you?” Barnes asks, mouth hooking up like it’s something interesting instead of horrifying. Like maybe, finally, someone actually gets the joke.

                Jason takes another drink from the bottle and then sets it on the table. He jerks his chin up, because he doesn’t know how to give an invitation, but he sure as hell knows how to issue a challenge. “Why don’t you find out?”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from "It Will Come Back" by Hozier.
> 
> For crow gifs, fic updates, and more unusual AUs, follow me on [tumblr](https://thepartyresponsible.tumblr.com/).


End file.
